A Chance Meeting
by The Ghostly Horse
Summary: It's all a matter of wrong place, wrong time. Or, depending on how you look at things, right place, right time. Charlie's having a hard time but that doesn't mean not comforting a young man with floppy hair who's having a bad day himself. Not knowing what else to do, Charlie can't leave this struggling man alone. Dedicated to LittleOddStar. Reviews Welcome.


**Dedicated to my good friend LittleOddStar. Because I said I would, and I keep my promises. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.**

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Charlie sat under the broad-leafed tree, pressing a bony back into the rough bark, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. This tree had been an escape for Charlie since moving four years ago, leaving behind all that was familiar and friendly. Charlie'd been holding it together, although barely, for those four years, but this month had snapped it for them. Nothing was going right, and everything was going wrong. Charlie just wanted a break from it all.

Charlie knew that they couldn't hide for much longer; people would start looking soon enough. Or maybe they wouldn't. Charlie has become as riveting as wallpaper lately, and wouldn't be surprised if people walked right past. But they would have to head back soon anyhow, it was verging on dusk, and the temperature dropped ridiculously once the sun disappeared. Charlie had only just begun the walk back home when they heard a strange sound. A wheezing, metallic sound coming from behind. Charlie turned to look, and stared.

A blue… box… was slowly materialising next to the ancient tree, metres from Charlie. It finished it's laboured grinding and Charlie saw the box more clearly. It was a police box. From the 1960's. From the UK. Surprisingly, the thoughts going through Charlie's mind wasn't so much the fact that it had appeared suddenly, but that it was out-dated, and in the wrong country. Realising that their thought pattern was seriously out-of-whack, Charlie couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter, although it was smothered quickly as the wooden doors opened inwards.

A tall man with an atrocious haircut stuck his torso out and looked around eagerly, clearly searching for something. It was apparent that he didn't find it, because his entire frame drooped, and he slowly stepped outside the police box from the wrong century. Charlie watched silently as the young man walked to the base of the tree and slid down until knees were level with ears. He muttered something, but Charlie couldn't make it out. Not knowing what else to do, they cautiously approached this anomaly who seemed to be on the verge of tears, as Charlie had been minutes before.

"What's wrong?" Charlie crunched a couple of leaves underfoot so the stranger was aware that he wasn't alone. The floppy-haired man's head shot up nonetheless and he wiped his eyes frantically. "It's okay to cry y'know. Not like the world's the happiest place." The last was said a little cynically, and Charlie immediately regretted them, cursing inwardly.

The man sniffed and shook his head, a corner of his mouth quirking minutely. "You certainly got that one right." Charlie's eyebrow shot up. He had an accent to match the police box. Watching him closely, Charlie scooted closer and perched on their haunches about a metre away.

"I'm Charlie. What's your name?" Introductions were as good a place as any to start, and besides, you didn't get to meet a Pom who lived in a police box everyday. Charlie noticed that he was wearing a red bowtie and braces to match, something that was also more suited to a decade gone by.

"I'm called the Doctor. Nice to meet you Charlie." Charlie snorted indelicately and replied before thinking, a habit they should seriously think about breaking in the near future.

"You didn't want to meet me. You wanted to be alone so that you could be sad and cry without anyone interfering." Charlie's brain caught up with their mouth, and the next sentence was delivered much softer. "But I am a good listener, if that helps any."

The Doctor let out a watery laugh, weak, but genuine. "I can't disagree with you there." The smile slid off his face and the next words were dripping with sorrow. "I lost my best friend. Best friends. And they're never coming back." The realisation must have hit him, because Charlie saw the pain flash across his face and the tears finally broke free.

Not knowing what else to do, Charlie extended a hand and rubbed the Doctor's shoulder in soothing circles. They let the tears take their course, wracking an awkward brain for what to say, and nothing coming to mind. After a few minutes, the young man had regained control, breathing raggedly but with control. And then he started talking.

"Her name was Amy. Amelia Pond. The first face these eyes saw. She was so young, yet she set me right with a few well-chosen words. Just like that." He snapped his fingers to prove his point, and Charlie settled down, knowing that this was going to take a while. "And then I left. I told her 'Five minutes. I'll be back in five minutes.' I was gone for years. She almost didn't forgive me for that, because she'd waited, waited twelve years for me." Charlie wondered what sort of person could stay away for twelve years, but didn't dwell on it, the Doctor was picking up pace, and he wasn't making a lot of sense.

"We travelled. Oh, did we travel. We saw so many things, we saved so many planets. She helped me kick start the world. Big Bang Two, you could call it. In fact, that's exactly what I called it. And then we saved the human race a couple of times, with the help of Rory. Good ol' Rory. Refused to die. Quite literally. And he was always there for Amy. Unlike me. Y'know, he waited for two thousand years for her. Protecting her. He was plastic for crying out loud! Those pair were absolutely unbelievable. And she picked him over me, as she should." Fresh tears fell from the Doctor's reddened eyes, "But it hurts so much."

Charlie knew that they had to say something, but what did you say to someone who had obviously lost the plot? Other planets, waiting for two thousand years, another Big bang, living plastic? The loss of this man's friends had clearly addled his brains, assuming that his friends were even real to begin with. Charlie shifted uncomfortably, and then remembered that a half-used packet of tissues resided in their pocket. Charlie offered them to the Doctor, who took three and used them all in quick succession.

"I was looking for her, you know. I thought that I'd managed to catch a trace, that I could follow her and Rory to wherever the angels sent her. But then the TARDIS lost the connection, if there was a connection, and I ended up here. I thought that, maybe she'd gotten a good enough hold, but no. She's lost forever. I'm never going to see Amelia again." Three more tissues were offered, taken, and used, joining the pile on the ground.

So this Amy and Rory were dead. And the Doctor thought that he could do something about that? Charlie didn't know how to work with that, so settled with a nodding head and comforting pat on the knee. While Charlie was still struggling to keep their own emotions under control, leaving this man alone seemed like a really bad idea. He clearly needed to let out the pent-up emotions, and it seemed as though the task had befallen Charlie, out of all people.

The Doctor looked up, bleary eyes only just visible in the rapidly fading light. Charlie was entranced. They didn't match his looks. Eyes like that belonged to someone much older, and Charlie didn't think it was just the loss of his friends that had made the Doctor prematurely old. Charlie also noticed something about those open eyes. They were clear, there was no madness lurking around the corners, not a trace. Charlie rocked back on their haunches as the Doctor gathered his feet under him and stood up, and then held out a hand to Charlie, who took it without much thought.

"I want to show you something. Sort of a thank you. For listening to me. I know it's didn't make much sense." The Doctor kept a hold on Charlie's hand and led them to the police box, illuminated by the streetlamps. Charlie felt a moment's panic, but it faded quickly, with the realisation that this man was sincere, that they trusted him.

The Doctor produced a key from one of numerous pockets and slid it into the lock of the wooden box, pushing inwards on doors that stated, 'pull to open'. He turned and grinned at Charlie, cheeks still glistening with tears. "You're going to love this bit." And stepped inside, holding the door wide for Charlie.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie followed the Doctor, not knowing that doing so would change their life forever. That comforting a man mourning the loss of his best friend was the best decision they could have made. That stepping through those wooden doors would open up the world to them.


End file.
